Love without sex is still the most efficient form of hell known to man.

I wanted to take a stand against what I think was not so well established then but is thoroughly well established now, which is the substitution for a real sense of a country of a hideous distortion which you can sell to the people called 'heritage'.

As to whether the people who were supposedly to put up the money and did put it up or whether it was Arthur's own money is something which I shall never know.

I have no fondness for pure form at all.

In other words the pictures are in a kind of relationship with each other which is touching only at points rather than pictures being illustrations of poems or poems extrapolations of the pictures.

You can never tell when an artist really will take up someone's work and work with it happily.

Love without sex is still the most efficient form of hell known to man.

I started off in England and very few people knew I was Australian. I mean, the clues were in the poems, but they didn't read them very carefully, and so for years and years I was considered completely part of the English poetry scene.

It is Australian innocence to love The naturally excessive and be proud Of a thoroughbred gelding who ran fast.

Hell, if I'd jumped on all the dames I'm supposed to have jumped on, I'd have had no time to go fishing.

What the hell difference does it make, left or right? There were good men lost on both sides.

A worker's paradise is a consumer's hell.

There's an inherent thing in me where, if things are going too smooth, I'll sabotage the hell out of them, just to make the music more of a sanctuary.

The Clinton administration launched an attack on people in Texas because those people were religious nuts with guns. Hell, this country was founded by religious nuts with guns. Who does Bill Clinton think stepped ashore on Plymouth Rock?

I just had one of those "what the hell are we doing" moments.

Mankind is not likely to salvage civilization unless he can evolve a system of good and evil which is independent of heaven and hell.

Capitalism without bankruptcy is like Christianity without hell.

Looking back, I think we were all quite mature, surprisingly responsible. In earlier wars, boys of our age had just gone off to raise hell or enlist or both, but we stayed dutifully at our desks doing tomorrow's homework.

As memory may be a paradise from which we cannot be driven, it may also be a hell from which we cannot escape.

It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, more vengeance, more desolation. War is hell.

Hell hath no fury like a liberal scorned.

How well I have learned that there is no fence to sit on between heaven and hell. There is a deep, wide gulf, a chasm, and in that chasm is no place for any man.

I would rather my soul broil in hell than I do you any harm.

In Hell all the messages you ever left on answering machines will be played back to you.

I'm not a humanitarian, I'm a hell-raiser.

I believe that I am in hell, therefore I am there.

Why? Will no man ever do something without a why? Just like that? For the hell of it?

Our little house was way back in the country. We had one house close to us, and hell the next one would've been a mile. If you got sick, you could holler and wouldn't nobody hear you.

If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually exclusive thing and another for the rest of my days.

I never did give anybody hell. I just told the truth and they thought it was hell.

The compact which exists between the North and the South is a covenant with death and an agreement with hell.

Christianity supplies a Hell for the people who disagree with you and a Heaven for your friends.

There is many a boy here today who looks on war as all glory, but, boys, it is all hell.

There's nothing wrong with being gay. I have plenty of friends who are going to hell.

If the world were a bar, America would currently be the angry drunk waving around a loaded gun. Yeah, the other people in the bar may be afraid of him, but they sure as hell don't respect him.

Hell is indefinite.

Doesn't anyone here think this sounds like a vision of hell? While we are all competing or dying, when will there be time for sex or music or books? Stop the world, I want to get off.

Hell is paved with good samaritans.

Maybe this world is another planet's hell.

If somebody ever wished to be me for a day, they'd be the most pissed-off person once they got here. They would be, like, in hell.

I believe all drunks go to heaven, because they've been through hell on Earth.

I have watched patients stand and gaze longingly toward the city they in all likelihood will never enter again. It means liberty and life; it seems so near, and yet heaven is not further from hell.

I never want to get to the point where it's all about my needs, and the hell with anybody else.

To hell with circumstances; I create opportunities.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.

Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, Utters another.

What the hell did I do in the 80's? Midnight Run. A perfect movie. Just a perfect movie.

What in the hell would they do with the farm program without us?

Sometimes the odds are against you-the director doesn't know what the hell he's doing, or something falls apart in the production, or you're working with an actor who's just unbearable.